"Worshipping your own family is rarely a good idea." Meja stands up, the runes already warm in her hands as they begin to come to life. Her legs complain about their first use in hours, but she ignores them to crouch near a basil plant. "What do you think? We'll already be braced for a giant one," she jokes, as she crouches. Somehow, she doubts that they'll end up with a giant basil, but it's an entertaining thought.

The Valkyrie begins to put them down, one by one, after concentrating on each rune for a lengthy moment, though nothing visibly happens at first when they're set in a ring around the plant. Each rune weighs invisibly on her mind, the power of their symbols threatening, as always, to make her sluggish and mess up the imbuing process. For gods and, she imagines, Fenrir, the power of the runes isn't at all a burden during this process. For lesser beings, it's a different story.

However, as she places her palm upon one of them, focusing her considerable energy to give each rune a singular idea — jēran for plentifulness, fehu for health and growth, berkanan for strength — the runes begin to glow again. It's slow and barely noticeable aside from the movement of the plant's leaves, but the basil does suddenly grow an inch. Meja takes a deep breath and pulls her hand away, and the glow slowly dies down again.